Sara's Song by Fern Michaels

Sara's Song by Fern Michaels

Author:Fern Michaels
Language: eng
Format: mobi, epub
Publisher: Kensington Publishing Corp.
Published: 2011-05-05T22:00:00+00:00


Chapter Eleven

Sara huddled deep into the deck chair, a lap robe about her. It was unseasonably cool for this time of year. She shivered, but not from the cold, as she stared into the backyard, aware that it would grow dark soon. Like she cared. One day, one night. What difference did it make? Each day was the same as the one before it.

It had been a week since Dallas’s memorial service. No one had contacted her, so she’d watched the service on television along with the world until she couldn’t bear it a moment longer. They had cremated Dallas, but no one said what would be done with his ashes. Was it her place to tell someone he’d wanted his ashes dropped from an airplane so they would scatter, as Dallas had said, to the four corners of the world? Who would listen to her?

Christmas was short days away. That, too, would be just another day. Maybe she would spend Christmas with Nellie Pulaski and her cats. Then again, maybe she’d spend the day in bed. Nothing seemed to matter.

The door onto the deck opened. Carly was making pot roast. It smelled wonderful. Not that she would eat any. She no longer had to worry about the ten pounds she’d put on this past year. Her weight had dropped immediately on the news of Dallas’s death. In ten days she’d lost thirteen pounds. A very unlucky number. Carly said she looked skeletal. “Sara, we’re going to eat in ten minutes. I went up to the attic and brought down all the Christmas decorations. When we finish dinner, we’re going to the market to pick up our tree. I picked one out the other day and put my name on it. I don’t want to hear a word, Sara. I refuse to go away on a holiday and leave you here without a Christmas tree. We’re doing the same thing we’ve been doing every year since Mom and Dad died. This year isn’t going to be any different. When we’re done with the tree and everything is tidy, I want to see you wrap my presents. See, Sara. I want to see you make the effort. Another thing, go upstairs and put some concealer under your eyes. You look ghastly.” It was all said in one breathless rush of emotion.

“Yes, Mother. Is there anything else wrong with me?”

“A lot of things, Sara. You aren’t making any kind of effort that I can see to get back on track. You can’t wallow forever.”

“It’s only been a week since the service, Carly. What do you want me to do? I cleaned the house, washed the kitchen curtains. I did the grocery shopping. I carried in a ton of firewood and stacked it because you like a fire. I need this time to . . . think.”

“About what? About marrying a man you weren’t sure you were in love with or are you thinking about the private hospital you aren’t going to get?”

“Yes to the first, no to the second.



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